


a heavy heart to carry

by bettydice (BettyKnight)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyKnight/pseuds/bettydice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>All lies, she whispers into her sister’s distorted face, twisting her dagger deep into her heart until it stops beating.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>All lies, as she slits Carver’s throat and her world drowns in red mist.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>All lies, as she takes a torch from the wall and sets fire to her mother’s corpse. The smell of burning flesh a memory, nothing more.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> <br/>Hawke gets hit by a Horror spell and has nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a heavy heart to carry

In the blink of an eye the Horror washes over her.

She’s used to it. She can just shake it off, the burning cold that spreads from her brain down her spine, icy needles pricking her heart.

She ignores Isabela screaming in agony, shuts out the image of Fenris sinking to his knees as Aveline’s sword cuts through him.

It’s not real, Hawke tells herself.

 _All lies_ , she whispers into her sister’s distorted face, twisting her dagger deep into her heart until it stops beating.

 _All lies_ , as she slits Carver’s throat and her world drowns in red mist.

 _All lies_ , as she takes a torch from the wall and sets fire to her mother’s corpse. The smell of burning flesh a memory, nothing more.

 

The spell dies with the enemy mage. Or at least, that’s what she tells the others.

It’s fine. It’s almost gone. Only a little remains, and she forces her mind to ignore it. Curls it together in a corner to be dealt with later.

She follows Fenris to his mansion; maybe his ghosts would be less cruel on her than her own.

Not that she worries about that.

 _I’m fine_ , she breathes against Fenris’ lips and then bites down hard. He knows it for a lie.

He has her pinned against a wall, hands above her head and driving into her with force, but it’s not enough. Behind his back, the shadows detach from the walls, ghostly figures bleeding into the room, _growing_.

Hawke drags him to the bed, draws him over her, tries to shut everything out except for him on her, around her, inside her. She stares into his eyes and all she can see is a terrifying darkness, a black abyss that will swallow her whole.

She moves his hands to her throat and makes him squeeze until her lungs burn and lights flare behind her eyes that keep the knot in her mind from bursting. For a while.

 

She wakes as she’s choking on her heart. It falls into her lap, raw and little.

Not wanting to wake Fenris, she takes her heart and begins the long walk towards the foyer.

Her heart is dripping a trail of blood but she’s glad; it will help her find her way back.

 

The air in the Deep Roads is stale and sweltering, decay singing her nose. It fits though; to her it is nothing but a tomb.

A bony hand curls around her shoulder.

_You just left me._

An arm wraps around her chest and Bethany’s body presses against her back.

Hawke wants nothing more than to turn around and yet stands as petrified, eyes fixed on the pulsing heart in her hands.

_It should have been you, sister._

Bethany’s hands close around hers, withered and rotten. They should not feel like hers, but they do and Hawke squeezes her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. She cannot bear to look, cannot understand anything, she feels like…

_Carry my wrath._

Her heart grows heavier.

 

The ogre flings her sideways and every bone in her body splinters when she is smashed against the rock.

Carver lies next to her, his blood a river between them. They hesitate before every breath they take - why prolong the inevitable when all it brings is more agony.

_We’ve failed them._

This is the first time they’ve seen each other cry since they were little. She thinks that she would like to catch one of his tears and carry it around her neck.

_We will not await you when you die._

Oh, she knows. _She_ has failed them. Lost them. She is what remains and every mistake she’s made has spiraled her further from where she started. And the road she travelled disappears before her eyes.

 _Carry my regret_.

Her heart grows heavier.

 

She is standing in the Gallows. Kirkwall a ruin, deserted long ago. Her companions gone or dead, she cannot recall. She just knows there is… an absence.

She tried to follow, hands reaching for Fenris as he turned and walked away. But she is standing on her mother’s grave and there are thorned tendrils piercing her legs and rooting her to the spot.

She has reached the end.

With one last sigh, she takes her place between the statues and slowly turns to bronze. Just another in a long line of people this city has broken.

_Carry our sorrow._

Her heart grows heavier.

 

They are waiting for her in Fenris’ mansion. Her family and friends all lined up and staring at her; no one makes a sound.

Hawke is on the floor and she cannot feel her legs. The Arishok’s blade has made a hole in her stomach and she cannot feel her legs, she cannot breathe, she cannot…

They are waiting for her.

She has her heart in one hand and the Viscount’s crown in the other and tries to crawl with all her strength. Her blood has won the race down the stairs and she chokes on the laughter in her throat.

_It is not enough._

Her mother kneels down before her and her fingers stroke through her hair. So tender that it is cruel.

They are waiting for her.

_Carry our fear._

They are gone.

 

The crown tumbles down the stairs and disappears in the distance. Hawke struggles to lift her hands to her mouth and swallows her heart.

She wakes with a gasp and turns to see Fenris watching her with a frown.

 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not.”

She places his hand over her heart, beating frantically against her ribs. His lips brush against her forehead.

“Bad dream?”

“I’ll be fine when the morning comes.”

Her heart is heavy in her chest but dreams are dreams and so far Hawke has always found her way back.

She curls up in his arms and does not move until the sun leaves no shadows to hide her.


End file.
